


Recovery

by CyberSearcher



Series: Moving Forward [3]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Alan being Alan, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Wholesome Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 17:11:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberSearcher/pseuds/CyberSearcher
Summary: Tron is brought to the User World to recover from the trauma of being Rectified. He stays at Alan’s house, leading to the User consoling his Program. And supsiquenty, facing himself.





	Recovery

Alan opened the door slowly, unsure if Tron was still asleep. Peeking through the crack, he saw that the figure was sitting at the edge of the bed, solidly facing away from his view. Inwardly, he sighed. It was the same posture he left the Program in last night. 

He still wore the one and only sweater Alan owned. It was a relic from his college days and just the sight of it brought back pleasant feelings of nostalgia. Of late nights, coffee, takeout and old friends. He supposed there was some irony in that. A relic of his past sat before his eyes. 

“Tron? I’m coming inside now.” 

If the Program heard him, he gave no indication. Alan moved to sit beside him and still Tron made no move he even registered him. “Hey,” he offered him a soft smile, “how’ve you been. Comfy?”

Tron - _Rinzler?_ \- only continued to stare into the nothing infront of him, entirely oblivious. Alan leaned in slowly, trying to meet his Programs empty gaze. Still no response. He shifted back, knowing instinctively that Rinzler didn’t take kindly to being crowded.

Alan may have been imagining it, but he saw a twitch in the corners of Tron’s eye as he moved back. 

“Sam and Quorra dropped by,” he began, shrugging and folding out his coat in the process, “they asked how you were. I know you don’t like visitors much, but I told they you were okay. I hope I was right.” 

Alan stole another glance at Tron, he looked so much like himself - past and present. His hair was parted in that naturally neat way it always did, down to the small strands that floated just above his eyes. His body was lean and wiry, emphasized by how the sweater enveloped his frame. Even the eyes. Deep, storm sea grey and blue. 

And yet, Trons age was clear as a morning sky. The tiny lines of not-quite crows feet and the dense shadows under those same eyes drained the strength from the colour, leaving them unfocused and diluted. The seemingly permanent furrow in his eyes and the slight frown in his lips. His body language read as tense and passive, yet bursting with energy. Too worn and too used to make anything of it anymore. 

Their most jarring difference was the scar. Long and faded, the mark ran up and across Tron’s neck and cheek.iit could almost be mistaken for vitiligo. Alan knew better. 

“I’ve found some old creams and powders that could help cover that up.” He offered, “I haven’t found a use for them in… a while.” 

Losing Lora still stung like a raw cut, but Alan reminded himself that this wasn’t about him. His pain was nothing compared to Tron. He was the one who needed - _deserved_ \- the comfort.

His next words came out quieter than he expected. “I’m sorry I can’t be with you more.” 

This time, Alan feels his own hands clutch at the bedding. He keeps his voice steady with more force than he expects. “I’m so, so sorry Tron. I wish Flynn had told me more, I wish I could’ve done something while you were both trapped. I wish I could do more to help you now. I wish I could have _saved you_.” 

Something burns in his eyes and in his chest. Alan tipped his head back to try and stifle the tears he knows and tries to deny. He shouldn’t be the one crying. 

He manages to steel his features and look Tron back in the eye. Alan instantly feels himself bristle as his Program leans forward. Despite not being human, Tron still gives of his own echo of warmth. It makes the hairs across Alan’s arms and the back of his neck prickle and raise. 

“Tron?” He asked, “Tron, is there something you need?”

He sees the Program shake his head and catches him raise his second hand to his face. Alan makes no move to stop him as he traces across the age lines over his cheeks and around his eyes. Alan can’t help but watch the way the intricate lines of circuits weave across and over his arms, pulsing in waves of pale blue under the thick sweater. 

“I remember the day you freed EnCom.” He whispered, reveling and reeling st how surreal that sounds. “I was so proud then, I thought Kevin, Lora and I all just did the impossible. But for some reason, I found myself thinking about you. I thought I was just being silly, thanking a Program. Now that I know, I can finally tell you.” 

Alan smiles and this time, he lets the tears fall. 

“Tron, I’m so proud of you.”

Tron’s movements still as he takes in his Users words. Then Alan hears a choking, sore sound build from the Programs throat before he collapses against him and buries against his shoulder. A series of cries, sobs and gasps pour out from Tron as he curls against Alan’s front. It’s filled with ugly, angry tears that wrack Tron’s shoulders while his hands grip his shirt with a vice-like grip. Alan hears Tron give a short, muffled roar against him before breaking back into heavy crying. 

Alan pulls him close and smoothed his hand through Trons hair. He lets himself quietly release some of his own bottled grief. For what could have been with Lora, for Kevin’s disappearance and for what he couldn’t do for Tron. All the damage he can’t erase and all the mistakes he can’t re-write. 

He doesn’t care how much time passes, Alan won’t let Tron go for as long as he needs it. He can feel the Programs breath even out against his neck as his shaking subsides. Eventually, Alan feels Tron’s grip go slack against his coat. But he still doesn’t pull back. 

A short, cut-of gasp spills from his throat when he feels Tron nuzzle into the side of his neck. The purring is back as well and he feels more than hears it, how the steady vibrations thrum against his skin. Alan swallows carefully. 

Tron shifts just enough so he can look his User in the eyes, filled with silent questions. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” Alan says. 

Alan can see the microscopic pull of his cheek as he hides a frown, then he feels a press against his arm. He looks down to see Tron’s hand gliding up and over his forearm, against the folds of his coat - did Tron know it comes of? Glancing back, Alan can see the creases in his forehead and the glances back to his eyes. 

The pressure is odd, but it isn’t unwelcome. So he settles back to holding the Program. Idly, he watches the lights in Tron’s fingers against the darker material of his jacket, so close the shade to the security monitors Grid Suit. 

Tron’s hand moves from his forearms, up his bicep and on his shoulders before he finally pauses just by where his collarbone would be. Alan can’t shake the idea of ‘Is this enough for Tron?’. But then he catches how his visible eyes rises up and the happy little humming against his neck and Alan wonders if this _is_ enough. 

The way the Program froze grew concern, and he looks back to see Tron’s eyes flick back and forth across empty space. “Tron? Are you still okay?”

He waits, then eases as the Program nods. “Do you want to move?” 

There’s a longer pause, but then Tron nods again and Alan finds himself surprised to be pushed back against the bed. He just shrugs and takes a cue from Flynn and just rolls with it. The angle is slightly awkward, with his legs still hanging off the side. He had to adjust his grip and shuffled around to try and keep the contact, but eventually Tron just rolled halfway on top of him and Alan caught the faintest hint of smugness and myr in his eyes. 

Alan’s not sure how to read their positions. Discomfort pecks at the back of his head, but he also finds this comforting. As weird as it is to think cuddled up next to a living form of 1’s and 0’s, this is the closest he’s been to anyone since Lora, even Sam wasn’t for this. 

He bends his neck up and realized that Tron’s moved to stroke the base of his neck, before he looks back up to see Teon watching his expression. Alan simply squints in confusion and watches as Tron’s eyes switch from his face and throat. 

Then Tron leans forward and before Alan can ask, Tron is kissing him. _‘He feels surprisingly human’_ is the first though that forms. There’s a touch of static between then and Alan swears Tron grows warmer, but the differences are almost invisible. Alan realizes that the Programs eyes have closed and the hand at his throat moves to cradle his cheek. 

It takes longer than Alan can deny for him to pull back and blink away the sudden haze of confusion. When he does, he’s tugged back when it seems as Tron tries to pull away. “Woah, Tron, Tron wait.” Alan called, catching him over the shoulder, “it’s okay. But… what are you doing?” 

Tron keeps his gaze down as they lay side by side, his hands now firmly circled around his chest. Alan has to shift the arm trapped under Tron so it ended up pressing against the Programs hip. His head laid on the comforter while he searched for an answer.

“I promise I’m not mad.” Alan whispered, “I just want to know first. Is this what Programs do to comfort each other?” 

Tron’s refusal to meet his gaze tells him everything, the Program knows it too. He bows his head and curls further. “U-user, use-eer, pl-plee-as fo-rr-give,“ he can’t finish the sentence before sharp, hacking coughs shake his form. Alan tries to soothe the Program the best he can, then tries massaging at the same spot at the base of his throat. Where the iconic set of square circuits laid under. 

Perhaps that’s where Tron had the idea from. 

He’s surprised to find the effect is almost instant, leveling the Programs coughing back into the even purrs. Alan pulled his arm out from under Tron and used it to try and tip the Programs face back to meet him. His eyes were a mix of calm, laced with wisps of panic. 

“Tron, I told you. I’m not mad.” Alan enforced. He really wasn’t mad, but there was a heavy mix of several emotions he didn’t have the words for. 

Forcing himself to admit it, Alan did enjoy the kiss. But there were so many things that made him believe it was _wrong_ for him to enjoy it that much. He didn’t know the full extent of Tron’s consent, he didn’t even know if the Program was in a state to give consent. Alan saw him as still recovering from what amounted to centuries of trauma, the last thing he needed was a relationship with someone who wasn’t completely over his last - and probably only, a bitter voice said - love interest. 

The Program’s eyes watched him under hooded eyelids. His purrs have dropped back to the same, soft tone. Alan means to say ‘do you want me to go?’.

Instead, he asks, “Do you want this?” 

Tron answers by pulling the hand from his chin over his throat and Alan stares for a long moment as he tries to understand. He knows what that spot means, what it was and what it meant. Damage from one of his closest friends, now repaired and seamless. To Alan, it shows that no matter what happens, Tron is always Tron. But he can’t quite understand what it means in this context specifically.

Then Tron moves to press his hand at the same spot. Alan still can’t see what Tron means. “I - I just… I don’t know. Just nod of you want this, don’t think that you need to… repay me. You’ve already done so much.” He stutters out. 

He feels the sudden exhale come from the Programs nose just before he sees him nod and lean back to kiss him. Tron’s just as gentle as Lora, accented with uncertainty. Then Alan wants to hit himself for comparing Tron to Lora. It’s a horrible comparison at best. Trons fingers play with the lapel of his coat, moving up to feel the texture from the collar of his shirt. The action is so intimate, it scares him. 

“Alan.”

The voice is from someone in some far of universe. When it felt like he could do anything. Alan snaps his eyes open and finds Tron watching his reaction with a calculated, yet, caring expression. He didn’t expect for his voice to match everything else, to sound like him thirty years - only thirty? - ago. But the tone of concern snaps him out of introspective. Now Tron is the one asking him, in his own way, if he still wants to be here. And a guilty, cloying part of his mind tells him that he shouldn’t and he doesn’t deserve this.

But then he’d be the pot calling the kettle so he decides to say _’fuck you’_ to that voice. 

He answers the question with another kiss and Tron practically melts. Alan reaches out to graze the curve of Tron’s hips, feeling the Program purr against him. Pulling back, it’s amazing to see what his own face - _Tron’s face_ \- smiling at him. He buries his head back into the crook of Alan’s shoulder and seems content to just lie there. 

“Thank you.”


End file.
